It’s a good bet that the only thing more stressful for a standup comic than following Jerry Seinfeld on stage would be opening for him.

It’s a highly unenviable task: patrons tend to be impatient with openers, largely because they have shelled out big money for the headliner.

But such was the position Gad Elmaleh found himself in earlier this year in Montreal.

“I was so nervous that night,” Elmaleh said.

“Now I know exactly how the guys who have opened for me (in French) must feel. At least some people in the Montreal audience knew me. I’d have been much more nervous doing this with Jerry in New York in front of super-Anglo audiences.”

Good thing Elmaleh has a thick skin. Like all great self-deprecating comics, the 45-year-old uses it to his advantage when American club patrons mistake him for a waiter and ask him for a Perrier.

Elmaleh — who, coincidentally, has been hailed as the Seinfeld of French comedy — has spent the last year honing his English act. He first appeared in Vancouver at the Rio Theatre last November, performing a small show that served as an introduction to English-speaking audiences.

He is returning with a larger scale performance, Oh My Gad, on Sept. 6 at the Vogue Theatre.

In his brief set at the Seinfeld show in Montreal, Elmaleh’s Anglo shtick went over well. Unlike many French comics, who tend to do longer anecdotal bits, his act is much more setup- and punchline-driven — more American in style. Like Seinfeld, he is also highly engaging and amiable, and tends to focus on life’s minutiae.

Seinfeld has been a buddy and mentor to Elmaleh, and featured him in a hilarious episode of Seinfeld’s Comedians in Cars Getting Coffee series. The two tooled around New York in a vintage Citroën Deux Chevaux, which was forever stalling but did allow them to get coffee, as well as frites and baguettes.

Seinfeld has also opened for Elmaleh at Joe’s Pub in New York.

“He was so nervous, too,” Elmaleh cracks. “When the host announced that Jerry would be opening, the crowd didn’t really react. Maybe they thought it was a joke. But when he came out, the crowd went — as they say in New York — bananas.

“Then I had to follow him. … Then the real comedy happened,” he deadpans. “But we’re friends, and I feel that people are aware of that connection. I had been such a fan of his before we became friends.”

The two first met a decade back in Cannes. “He walked into the room. There were 10 people in it, and he points at me and says: ‘You must be the funny guy.’ I asked how he knew — if he saw my picture or if he Googled me. He said he hadn’t. He just said in every room there is one funny guy, and that I was the guy.”

Elmaleh comes across about as grounded and unassuming as anyone, but make no mistake: he is a superstar in the Franco comedy world. He was voted the funniest person in France. He was named a Chevalier de l’Ordre des Arts et des Lettres by France’s Minister of Culture. He plays to crowds of up to 15,000 in Europe, and has enjoyed sold-out runs lasting months at a time.

Having pretty much gone as far as he could in French comedy, Elmaleh — who is also a major film star in France — set his sights on conquering the English world of chuckles a few years back. He landed roles in Woody Allen’s 2011 hit Midnight in Paris and Steven Spielberg’s The Adventures of Tintin: The Secret of the Unicorn (also 2011).

On the subject of English comedy, talk turns to Jerry Lewis, who, for reasons unknown, appears to remain as popular as brie in France.

“Do you know what’s more popular than Jerry Lewis in France?” Pause. “The idea of Jerry Lewis being the most popular comic in France.

“Everywhere I go in America, when they learn I’m from France, the first thing they ask is if I’m a huge Jerry Lewis fan. I’ve never been able to figure that out. Maybe it’s because of his body movements. It’s just so weird. Maybe it’s because of the theatrical comedy tradition in France. But it just makes no sense to me.”

Born in Casablanca, Morocco, Elmaleh studied political science at the Université de Montréal for four years before moving to Paris in the mid-1990s to pursue drama courses.

After he quickly established himself as a comedic force in France, it didn’t take long for programmers from the French component of the Montreal comedy fest, Juste pour rire, to book him for performances.

Elmaleh is also well versed in the North American humour scene. He is able to differentiate, for example, between L.A.- and New York-style standup, and has a decided preference for the latter.

“I’m living in New York now, and every night when I’m there, I go to the (famed Comedy) Cellar and perform. That’s the only way to learn how to be more efficient with my routine. The funny thing is that I’ve also picked up a lot for my French act as well.”

He recalls running into 30 Rock star Judah Friedlander, a Ping-Pong champ. “He told me that after breaking his right hand, he learned how to play with his left hand, which he compared to me doing English comedy. He also said that when he returned to playing Ping-Pong with his right hand, he was much better, because he had learned so much more. That’s exactly what I feel now, after going through the struggle of trying to do English comedy and starting all over again.”

Like Seinfeld, Elmaleh eschews political comedy, largely because it gets dated quickly and because much of it is derivative.

“I remember someone asked Jerry why he never does political material. He said that was funny, because no one ever asks those guys who do political stuff why they never do neurotic observational material. That’s a good point.”

Elmaleh segues into a bit about French doors. “That’s only in America. We don’t have French doors in France. And, oh yeah, I just discovered that French toast was invented in America.

“And what’s with this idea of ‘friends with benefits’ in America? In France, we just call them ‘friends.’ And what’s with ‘date night’ in America? In France, we just call that ‘marriage.’ In America, going on a date is really more like ‘interview night.’ You have to give your resumé.”

As a result, the now-single Elmaleh is focused on just being a full-time “comedy geek.” Among other projects, there are plans for a Netflix special.

Elmaleh is honest enough to concede that his ego has taken the occasional beating on this side of the pond. He can’t walk the streets of Paris without being swarmed by fans. In New York, few know him.

“The funniest thing that happened to me recently was opening for Jerry at the Beacon Theatre in New York. When I showed up at the stage door, they wouldn’t let me in. The guy said he had someone called ‘opener’ on his sheet to let in. I said I was the opener, but he didn’t believe me. He called the manager, and after 15 minutes of explaining, they finally let me in.

“The funny thing is that I performed at the Beacon, as a headliner in French, three years ago and we sold out the place,” he says. “But it’s OK. It’s humbling, and it builds character. It’s nice to be without a chauffeur and bodyguards, to walk around the streets anonymously and go to work. There’s no madness, no screaming. It’s wonderful. This is another challenge.

“Then there’s the money thing. Working in America almost costs me more. But as they say in America: ‘No pain, no gain.’ Still, I’m no masochist, either. If I were bombing with my jokes in English, I would go back to France. Maybe do that mime thing.”

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